The Castle at Night
by Embracing Inescapable Truth
Summary: A cold and wet December night in the trio's fourth year sees Hermione sitting alone in the grounds, pondering the futilities of life. Perhaps Harry is the one person who can understand how she's feeling. A/N: NOT Harry/Hermione romance, just friendship.


**The Castle at Night**

It had been nearly three and a half years, and the beauty of the castle at night still never failed to take Hermione's breath away.

Sat alone in the darkening grounds, she could still remember the first time she'd laid eyes on it, back when she was a first year preparing for the sorting. Back then she'd been so _naïve_. Oh, she'd been intelligent. She could name the properties of every plant listed in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_, as well as rattle off the dates of every major - and most minor - battles in wizarding history. She'd always been intelligent, yet the book smarts and wit she'd always been so quick to demonstrate meant nothing compared to the wisdom and understanding of life that she'd picked up in the last three years.

Aged merely fifteen and three months, Hermione Granger was already weary. Weary of life, weary of the world. Sick of the whole act.

She couldn't quite pinpoint the moment when she'd first realised that being able to regurgitate every single page from four year's worth of set books wasn't quite going to cut it. There'd been no sudden epiphany or moment of comprehension; it had been more of a gradual understanding. Yet for the first time in her life, Hermione wished that the knowledge could just _go away_. She didn't _want_ to know that her book smarts meant nothing, because as soon as she understood that, it was only a matter of time before she established there was little else she _could_ do. Hermione Granger was smart. Well great. Who even cares?

So she'd thrown herself into SPEW, hoping that perhaps campaigning for the rights of the defenceless and mistreated house elves would bring some sort of meaning or purpose into her life. And in many ways it had, despite the lack of enthusiasm she'd been met with from her peers. She'd finally felt that she was doing something for the greater good, as opposed to memorising textbooks in order to pass exams at the end of the year. Not that that wasn't a worthy cause or anything.

Yet in other ways SPEW had simply opened her eyes to how futile a struggle it was they were fighting. However hard she protested and campaigned, she was never really going to make a difference, she knew that. Wizarding families had been employing the services of house elves for generation upon generation, and that was not going to change because some measly fourth year _muggleborn_ from Hogwarts going through some kind of adolescent crisis happened to say, "Hey, that's not really right guys."

But the castle was beautiful. It was big, and it was powerful, and old. Somehow that gave her hope in a way that even Dumbledore couldn't quite, despite possessing all three of the aforementioned traits. And perhaps that was why she found herself perched outside on the cold December evening, clutching her cloak tightly around her frame. Perhaps that was why she didn't mind the fact that the pounding rain was going to cause her hair to practically explode the next morning, and that she's have to be up at [i]least[/i] two hours early tomorrow to make it anything near tameable. Perhaps that was why, despite everything else, she figured it mightn't be a lost cause after all.

Due to the pounding rain and her dreamlike state, Hermione didn't notice at first when somebody came and sat next to her. It was only when she heard her name being called softly that she spun her head around in alarm, before relaxing. "Oh, hi Harry," she said absently. "You should go in, it's freezing."

Harry laughed quietly, the sound almost drowned out by the rain. "Pot, kettle, black," he pointed out. "You're drenched through, how long have you been out here? Me and Ron thoug-"

"Ron and I," Hermione interjected, without thinking. "It's Ron and I."

"_Ron and I_ thought you were in the library."

Hermione shrugged nonchalantly. "I was, but I finished my work. Thought I'd come out here for a moment."

"What, to enjoy the nice weather?" Harry retorted jokingly. Despite the playful edge to his voice his teeth were beginning to chatter together, and without his own cloak he was shivering. "Come in Hermione, it's freezing. If you catch pneumonia you'll miss transfiguration tomorrow," he added tantalisingly.

Refusing to dignify the latter statement with a spoken reply, Hermione merely scowled. Instead, she attempted to hurry Harry inside. "Na, don't worry about me. I'll catch up, you go ahead," she insisted, giving him a slight nudge to the end of the bench they were sharing.

Harry sighed, edging back onto the bench so that he had a proper seat. "You're bloody stubborn Hermione, you know that?" he commented, slightly bad-temperedly. "You're so… female."

"'Hey Hermione, you're a girl'," Hermione mimicked Ron's recent words. "You know, 10/10 for observation you two." She rolled her eyes, and slumped her shoulders dejectedly. "Anyway, I just fancy a bit of time alone, don't worry about me."

"Yeah? Well how about you try catching some alone time somewhere you won't freeze to death?" Harry retorted sarcastically, still somewhat annoyed by her attempt to dislodge him from his seat.

"It's not funny, Harry," Hermione frowned. She couldn't be bothered with this stupid argument; it was taking all her effort not to perform a full body bind on Harry just to shut him up.

Holding his hands up in apology, Harry attempted to placate her. "Sorry, I just… Look, why don't you come into the common room, and we can try getting a few more people interested in SPEW."

Although somewhat touched by the gesture, Hermione shook her head.

"C'mon Hermione! It's a one-time-only offer!"

Hermione chewed her lip for a moment, glancing up at the castle. Little pinpricks of light were visible through the window slits, and every few seconds one would black out for a moment as somebody passed through the respective corridor. Some people moved quickly, as though hurrying to their destination, whereas others just ambled by, no hurry or purpose in mind.

Turning to face Harry, Hermione took a deep breath. "It's just… Do you ever wonder… well what's the point?" she asked, scanning his face for a reaction.

Confused, Harry frowned. "The point in SPEW? Regularly."

Hermione elbowed him, not altogether jokingly. "Not SPEW, you idiot!" She paused, glancing down at her lap as she struggled to find words to put voice to her feelings. "Just… the point, in general. I mean… we fight, we do the right thing and all that. We're trying to stop You-Know-Who. But why? It's not like we're achieving anything in the long run."

This time it was Harry who turned towards the castle, studying it for a moment with a small frown. Hermione wondered what little detail he'd picked out to look at. What part of the castle made him think? When he spoke his words were soft, again barely audible above the pounding of the rain. "Maybe not," he admitted. "Maybe not in the long run. But that doesn't mean it's not worth it. If we can stop Voldemort for just a few more days, give a father just a few more days with his son, a mother with her daughter, does that not make it worth it?"

"I guess…" Hermione sighed. She understood Harry's argument. It made sense in every respect, and yet she had trouble really _believingf_ it. "I just… I dunno."

Harry glanced towards her, unusual concern flickering over his features. "What's up with you 'Mione? You've been acting really weird lately," he commented, brushing the rain from his robes to distract him from looking at her directly. He wasn't into all this touch-feely nonsense, yet felt compelled to try. Maybe he was the only person Hermione had to talk to.

Raising an eyebrow, Hermione smirked. "You really know how to talk to a girl, Harry."

"Oh, tell me about it," he laughed quietly. "Trust me on that one, I know. Seriously though, what's up with you?"

Surveying her fingernails, Hermione let out a defeated sigh. Despite the pouring rain and her previously defensive attitude, she felt herself relax in Harry's company. If there was one person who could understand her, without judging her, it was Harry. "I don't really know to be honest. It's just… I'm smart, I guess. But is that it? Is that all I am? Smart?"

This time Harry when laughed her did so loudly and naturally. Hermione shot him a glare and opened her mouth to speak, but Harry held up a hand to stop her. "Wait – don't bite my head off!" Met only by a stony gaze in response, he hurriedly continued. "Hermione, you are so much more than just smart. You're funny, you're kind, you're pretty, and let's face it, you're friends with me which has got to be worth a few brownie points!"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione allowed a brief smile to flit over her face. "That's sweet Harry… But I'm not, not really."

"Is this going to be one of those female things where you whine on about how ugly you are, just so I'll tell you you're not?"

"Do you enjoy having all your limbs attached, Harry?"

"Eh. Not fussed either way really, I'm sure Madam Pomfrey would whip me up a new leg if need be." The pair paused for a moment. Despite the beating rain, the silence seemed unusually absolute. It didn't long to be filled, yet when Harry did speak Hermione could not help but feel relieved at the broken intensity. "Seriously though. You're amazing. You know that, right?"

Hermione wasn't quite sure what caused her to do it. She wasn't sure whether she was starting to become delirious with the cold, or even whether she meant to do it at all. She wasn't even sure which one of them leant in first, but before she knew what was happening their lips had met and she was kissing Harry. Kissing Harry in the pouring rain, in the dark, in Hogwarts grounds, in front of the castle, and…

"EW."

"Ew, ew, ew, ew."

They'd both pulled away at the same moment, each face wrinkled equally in disgust. "Ewww," Hermione complained, rubbing her mouth with the back of her sleeve. "That was… ew."

"You too," Harry nodded, spitting into the grass behind them. "Ew."

"You think we should go in?"

"Uh-huh."

Wordlessly, the pair got to their feet and began the walk back towards the castle. The rain had begun to let up slightly, but it was still soaking underfoot and synced squelching sounds accompanied them as they progressed. Neither looked at the other, each concentrating on placing one foot before the other. Whereas Hermione was finding the cuff of her jumper to be unusually fascinating, Harry was enthralled by the sparkling grass. Just as they reached the castle doors however, Hermione grabbed Harry's arm to stop him. "Just for the record, that just didn't happen, right?"

Harry pulled a face. "The taste in my mouth would indicate otherwise," he complained, once again spitting into the grass.

"Harry," Hermione replied, in her most severe and Professor McGonagall-like voice. "It did. Not. Happen."

"Right," Harry nodded, taken aback by the unnerving similarity. "It didn't happen. We never speak of it again. But I'm still gonna need to disinfect my mouth when we get back."

Hermione grinned slightly as the pair began climbing the steps. "At least I didn't eat half a loaf of garlic bread for dinner," she commented jokingly.

"You could taste that?"

"Taste it!? Jesus Harry, stick to salad the night before the ball, won't you?"

Harry laughed as he gestured towards the great oak front doors which, mercifully, remained ajar. "Come on then, let's get inside." He stepped aside to allow her past. "By the way Hermione, who're you going to the ball with?"

Hermione's only reply was a knowing laugh. "Someone who'd punch your face in if he knew what you just did. C'mon, get a move on."

A fleeting expression of panic crossed Harry's features. "Is he… big?" he stuttered nervously.

"Oh yes."

Now looking truly unnerved, Harry bit his lip. "But nothing happened, right?"

A true smile now crossing Hermione's face, she gave Harry a small push in the back to get him moving. "You'd better hope so, Potter. You'd better hope. Come on, I'll race you upstairs!"

With that, the two set off at a run across the entrance hall, neither caring that any onlooker would be questioning their sanity. As they leapt up the stairs, two at a time, neither of them cared to remember that Voldemort was gaining power. As they dashed along the corridor, it didn't occur to Hermione that she really ought to be revising for that Charms test tomorrow. And before they skidded into Snape on the third floor corridor, it had escaped both their minds that not only was it past curfew, but running in the corridors was against the rules.

"Well, well, well," Snape smirked, as two flustered faces looked up at him in panic. "What have we here?"


End file.
